and all the realty passed with that;
the money was not affected by the date of his birth; that must be
explained to Cecily by his lawyer or perhaps she would expect to get
it. For the moment there was nothing to do but to go to London--and then
perhaps travel a bit. He smiled for an instant; it certainly struck him
as rather an anti-climax. He threw himself on a sofa and, in spite of
his conviction that he could not sleep, dozed off almost directly.

It was three when he awoke; he went up to his room, had a bath, shaved,
and put on a tweed suit. Coming down to the study again, he opened the
shutters and looked out. It would be light soon, and he could go away.
He was fretfully impatient of staying. He drank some whiskey and
soda-water, and smoked a cigar as he walked up and down. Yes, there were
signs of dawn now; the darkness lifted over the hill on which Merrion
stood.

Merrion! Yes, Merrion. And the Major? Well, Duplay had not frightened
him, Duplay had not turned him out. He was going of his own will--of his
own act anyhow, for he could not feel so sure about the will. But for
the first time it struck him that his abdication might accrue to the
Major's benefit, that he had won for Duplay the prize which he was sure
the gallant officer could not have achieved for himself. "I'll be hanged
if I do that," he muttered. "Yes, I know what I'll do," he added,
smiling.

He got his hat and stick and went out into the garden. The windows of
the Long Gallery were all dark. Harry smiled again and shook his fist at
them. There was no light in Cecily's window. He was glad to think that
the girl slept; if he were tired she must be terribly tired too. He was
quite alone--alone with the old place for the last time. He walked to
where he had sat with Cecily, where his mother used to sit. He was easy
in his mind about his mother. When she had wanted him to keep the house
and the name, she had no idea of the true state of the case. And in
fact she herself had done it all by requesting him to invite the
Gainsboroughs to her funeral. That was proof enough that he had not
wronged her; in the mood he was in it seemed quite proof enough.
Realities were still a little dim to him, and fancies rather real. His
outward calmness of manner had returned, but his mind was not in a
normal state. Still he was awake enough to the every-day world and to
his ordinary feelings to remain very eager that his sacrifice should not
turn to the Major's good.